I first discovered cuckolding when I was in college. At that time I was just a girl out for a fun time, and if a guy wanted to be my boyfriend, I let him, and took advantage of whatever he had to offer me while continuing to sleep with whoever attracted my attention—mostly manly guys with big cocks, real men with real cocks

After a while I realized that the guys who were the “boyfriend” type generally were less well endowed than the guys I like to fuck. They were less exciting, but they had more money to spend on me. They were faithful, so I didn’t have to worry about them wasting that money on some other girl. It was only one short step to discovering how easy it was to keep a guy like that wrapped around my little finger through manipulating his insecurities and making him feel just an inch tall. Oh wait! Maybe you are just an inch tall. Hahaha, I love to laugh at guys with little weewees, watch their pathetic little egos just shrivel up in front of my eyes, while their useless little cocklets get just a little bit bigger and harder.

My first real cuckold experience was when I was in college. I was with my then boyfriend at the time, a boy who I had been dating for several months. We were at an off-campus party, and everybody was having some drinks. My boyfriend was there, feeling romantic, and he thought it was a good time to tell me that he wanted us to move in together. At first I laughed, thinking it was a joke. When I realized he was serious, I laughed even harder. He wanted to know why, and I told him that I was not ready to settle down, especially with a guy with such inadequate err.. manhood.

You should have seen the look on his face. He had had a clue that his size was —shall we say— somewhat less than average, but he had no idea that women cared about things like that. Well, they do. Women do care whether the guy who’s fucking them has a real cock or one of those little toy peepees. But you knew that, didn’t you? He was speechless, and I was in no mood to baby his insecurities. I saw a guy I’d fucked a few weeks ago, he saw me, and we went upstairs together for some hot, steamy fun. Of course, my boyfriend saw us go up the stairs together, and apparently he was listening at the door while I screamed in pleasure from the thrusts of that huge, rock-hard cock.

We came together, and after a few minutes, he got up, got dressed, and opened the door to leave, knocking over—who else?—my boyfriend, who had been listening in the whole time. He looked so pathetic sitting there on the floor, all we could do was laugh. Then he came inside to talk to me, and told me that if I wanted to have sex with other guys, he understood, and he would not stand in my way. Plus, he still wanted to move in together

.I told him how it was going to be. I was not going to have sex with his pathetic little penis again and if he wanted to cum, he would need to earn my permission to wank. Then I gave him his very first cream pie. We moved in together the next week. He was a good boy, and knew his place, which was wherever I told him to be, doing whatever I told him to be doing for me or my lover.

It wasn't long after we moved in together that I met my first husband. He was a little better endowed, but he was rich and bought me whatever I wanted. He did whatever I told him to do, and he still does.